


He's Alive, Ain't He?

by JRC



Series: The Token Harem AU™ [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha Hanzo Shimada, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Harem, Gen, Historical Fantasy, Omega Jesse McCree, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-07 22:03:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20824535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JRC/pseuds/JRC
Summary: Jesse McCree is perfectly damn fine, thank you very much.He tells it to any damn fool who looks at him with disgust or shock or sympathy or anything even remotely resembling pity.Because damn them all, he's fucking *fine*. He is. Yes, really. Now stop askin'. He's alive, ain't he? And that's what he keeps telling himself to keep going when it feels like way too fucking much.





	He's Alive, Ain't He?

**Author's Note:**

> CW/TW: Past sexual assault, past physical abuse, mention of minor character death

**CW/TW: Past sexual assault, past physical abuse, mention of minor character death**

* * *

Jesse McCree is perfectly damn fine, thank you very much.

That's what he tells Jack when he darts to Jesse's side a little *too* quickly when the omega is finally back on his own two feet after resting up for a few days in an entirely too lavish medbay. Fuck, like he can't stand on his own? (He can't. That's what three days of enforced bedrest will do to a man, and that not even counting the extreme blood loss and cauterization Jesse suffered, all before he even made it into that damn bed.)

He tells it to that damn doctor of Lucio's, the dark-skinned Alpha with the smooth voice and calming accent. (And the dry humor. And the bad jokes that make Jesse laugh so hard he cries, and the crying isn't always from the laughter. And Jean pretends not to notice. And the uncanny ability to see right through Jesse's lies. And the gentle suggestions - not orders - to take it easy and be kind to himself. And to come to him for help whenever he might need any.)

He tells it to Lucio when the damn emperor himself checks in on him, when Jesse is almost too shaken to speak at all, but damn, he's not important enough for the emperor to notice, so he'd have said just about anything to get him to leave. (And that damn check-in had Jesse shaking and muffling sobs in his fist and ducking into a closet to process, because holy shit, Lúcio was being so fucking *genuine*. He's only ever had that kind of concern shown for him by Gabe and Jack. Lúcio doesn't even fucking _know_ Jesse, so what the hell is he doing this for? What does he want? Does he intend to keep Jesse around? Maybe as some kind of slave or pet or-- he cuts that thought out at the root and refuses to think about it again.)

He tells it to Gabe when he wakes his adoptive father up without realizing that the pillow he'd been crying silently into was actually Gabe's thigh, and the other omega simply leaned in and pressed a kiss to the top of his head and said, "_Todo van a hacer bien, mijo_." (And Jesse definitely didn't cry harder at that, at the reminder that someone cared enough to hold him until he fell asleep, and tell him it'd all be okay...)

He tells it to any damn fool who looks at him with disgust or shock or sympathy or anything even remotely resembling pity.

Because damn them all, he's fucking *fine*. He is. Yes, really. Now stop askin'. He's alive, ain't he? And that's what he keeps telling himself to keep going when it feels like way too fucking much.

"I'm alive, ain't I?" When his arm wakes him up stifling screams because it burns so damn bad, and he's drenched in so much cold sweat, his has to sneak off and find replacement sheets for his bed because there's no way he could pass that stink off in the morning for anything other than fear/pain sweat, and he can't have that talk just yet.

"I'm alive, aren't I?" When Gabe and Jack exchange a worried glance, then look back at Jesse simultaneously, and Jack asks if he's really sure he's ready to leave the medbay. Of course he's fucking sure. The stench of blood and burned flesh haunt him enough already, he doesn't need the genuine artifact fucking up his head even further. He needs fresh damn air - but what he really needs is someplace he can be alone and fucking cry without feeling so goddamn weak.

"I'm alive." When Jean asks him how he's holding up, after he'd caught Jesse dangling his useless arm into the cold pool in the palace baths, and staring blankly down at the surface of the water. He is. He's alive. It's all he feels he can say without lying to Jean, or worrying him. He's a real nice guy. Real nice. Too nice to deal with Jesse's defective ass.

"I'm alive... _aren't_ I?" His voice shaky, as he stumbles through unfamiliar halls that bounce his footsteps back to him cacophonously, a fever burning him up from the inside out, and bringing with it visions of his past that he'd really rather never see again.

Is he alive? It's hard to say. His body temperature tells him he's alive, but his mind helpfully supplies that he'd be better off dead. But is he dead? After all, Ashe caught him. Caught him after promising that if she ever saw him again, she'd kill him. Did she?

Ashe and Bob feature prominently in Jesse's delirium, which should tip him off to the fact that he's dreaming or hallucinating or whatever, because he's been informed by Jack and Gabe both several times that they're both dead now. That archer fella, the one who'd come with his adoptive fathers to his rescue, had shot them both through the eye. He's a damn good shot, apparently.

But somehow, Jesse falls for his own fever dreams anyway. Ducks his head when Ashe and Bob walk past him in the halls, giving him a wary once-over. Tries to shrink in on himself, knowing that to catch Ashe's attention is a mistake. He'd learned that one the hard way.

It's strange, wandering around in such a large open space with so few people around. Jesse's used to cramped caves in Deadlock Gorge, packed city streets, and tiny beds with five grown bodies jammed together on top of 'em. To have a place that's so damn empty, his footsteps echo is... eerie.

Marble pillars warp into stalactites and stalagmites, and guard uniforms morph into the standard Deadlock gear. Fucking Alphas, everywhere Jesse tries to hide. He keeps his head down like a good little omega, doesn't say a damn word, doesn't let anyone see that he's burning up and sweating through his clothes. All they'd do is take advantage of his weakness.

At one point, a couple of Alphas start following him through the caverns. Jesse can see them out of the corner of his eye, and he panics. Ducks into the first room he can find and dives beneath a bed to wait out his hunters. He hears them curse and hurry down the hallway, incorrectly assuming he'd torn off that way, and finally relaxes, pressing his sweat-damp cheek against the blessedly cool stone beneath him. He's hidden in less comfortable places before. It could be worse. And he's less likely to be found here while it's still light out, and the gang was still active for the day. He could rest. Just a short nap...

His dreams were no better than the waking world. They never were, and today, they were much, much worse.

Jesse had known what he was getting into, joining the Deadlock Gang. At thirteen years old and wearing bruises beneath his clothes, he'd run away from home and joined up with the first group of ne'er do wells to appreciate his skills with a crossbow.

Turns out, he should have looked into 'em a little further before signing up, his rumbling stomach driving his hand to make that messy mark on Ashe's contract. He would've starved instead, if he'd known what he was signin' up for.

The Deadlocks never had to worry about what they were gonna eat on any given day. The Alphas hardly ever had to worry about anything at all. And Jesse, stupid, naive Jesse, had signed himself up thinkin' that soon, that'd be his life. Unconcerned. Powerful. Well-fed, and sprouting like a weed.

He'd never taken the time to consider what the other members of the gang lived like. Especially not the omegas.

So when Jesse woke up one morning feeling slick and sweaty and burnin' up with a fever like nothin' he'd ever felt before, he didn't know that his hopes of bein' a Deadlock ringleader had just ended, right along with Jesse's shitty excuse for a childhood.

He didn't even make it to the Deadlock Gang's joke of a doctor before the Alphas had descended on him, like vultures 'round a corpse.

He didn't make it to the Deadlock doctor until almost a week later, with more bruises than when he'd signed that damn contract of Ashe's, more than one broken bone, a limp that he wasn't sure he'd ever be rid of, and a sickening understanding of what his life with Deadlock would be like from here on out.

At thirteen years old, Jesse McCree learned what it meant to be an omega in an Alpha's world. He learned that his accomplishments and skills meant nothing during a certain time of every damn month. Learned what it meant to be violated in the worst way possible. Learned to hide, and stockpile food, and disappear for weeks at a time.

At thirteen years old, Jesse McCree learned not to trust anyone.

That week's events, and the events of every week Jesse wasn't smart enough or quick enough or well enough to avoid the rest of the Deadlock Gang played on repeat beneath his eyelids as he fought against the fever that kept dragging him right back under. They still visited him sometimes on normal nights. But when he was sick, it was always so much worse.

When a pair of calloused hands laid flat on the stone tile in front of Jesse, he whimpered, curling in on himself, heedless of the puddle of tears and sweat and spit and snot beneath his face, and waited for the inevitable.

It... it never came.

Trembling, Jesse risked a glance over his shoulder, and found a pair of oddly familiar brown eyes peering back at him, under a brow furrowed deeply with concern.

"Jesse?" A low, deep voice queried gently, gravelly in a way that reminded him of Jack.

Cautiously, Jesse nodded. Maybe this was real, finally, after the onslaught of nightmares. After all, no one in Deadlock had known him as Jesse except for Ashe, and even then, not until he left for good.

The furrow beneath the man's brow seemed to relax, and he let out what sounded to Jesse like a relieved sigh. "Your fathers are looking for you," he intoned gently, not making any move to come any closer to Jesse where he still lay curled beneath the bed. "They have been very concerned," he added quietly, with a flicker of.... something complex, something Jesse couldn't rightly identify in this state of mind, in his voice. "Will you come out and let me take you to them?" He coaxed, shifting where he laid almost in the fetal position to stay at Jesse's eye level.

The omega seized up at that, memories surging back to the forefront of his scattered mind. Alphas suggesting midnight strolls with hidden, malicious intentions. Alphas offering to guide him home at night, with very different ideas of 'home' than Jesse had. Alphas guilting Jesse into late nights and too many drinks and then into their beds and then -

"Whoa," the mystery man said gently, but firmly, holding his hands up and crawling back away from the bed a little. "Easy. You don't have to come with me. Alright? I'll bring your fathers here," he offered, wide eyes meeting Jesse's with a frantic kind of worry.

Jesse merely nodded, clenching and unclenching his hands - no, *hand*, singular- around the edge of his serape while he watched the man quickly get to his feet and depart the room.

Jesse counted to ten then clumsily dug his own way out from underneath the bed, the whole process encumbered greatly by his left arm - or what was left of it. Crawling with only one hand was a task in and of itself, but doing it from a space barely a foot tall was almost impossible. He staggered to his feet after a few minutes of extracting himself from beneath the bed, and immediately stumbled into the side of the mattress, his legs tingling as his blood began circulating freshly.

He had to go. He didn't have time to catch his breath or wait to feel his legs again, because that man would be coming back, and who knew whether he would actually bring Gabe and Jack back with him, and not just some Alpha friends of his to take advantage of Jesse while he was weak and confused and -

"*Jessito,*" Gabe's panicked baritone cut through the haze of Jesse's need to flee. A wave of relief swept Jesse into his father's arms, where he trembled, his eyes sliding shut as he breathed in Gabe's familiar scent. "Mijo, you're burning up... you damn ingrate... come on," he murmured, scooping Jesse up into his arms bridal style and setting off down the palace hallways, as Jesse finally, *finally* drifted off into a blessedly dreamless sleep.


End file.
